Wichita eagle., 1887-10-20
CAPT. LIE MARS STORY.

| through the sIeetS OF 81 Sauveur to
ward the small but well cared for cemetery
1t was soldiers funeral A guard wake,
beside the flower strewn bier Two by two
with bent heads, the soldiers followed it. Tn
nluff1ed drums beat heavily. ''Ashes to ashes
dust to dust" they seemed to say
Women looked from their windows as tn
sad procession marched on.
''He is gone at last, the poor Capt. L
Mari" said one.
'And happy release for him!n sighed an
other.
'Never did a brave soldier live with Sc
many wounds, such dreadful mutilations
Yet he was handsome still-a beautiful face
saw it in the coffin" said another
Then they crossed themselves and went
back to their work.
One only of those soldiers returned to tbs
house in which their dead comrade had
dwelt, after the ceremonies were over. l,
was the colonel of the regiment
| To him, i'll his dying hours, poor Le MAJ
| had given little note, in which he had read
these words:
| Ny OLD FRIEND: When am gone, de.
sire you to take from my desk small packet
Of manuscript which you will find there 1t
| IS the story of my life. Even to you have
| been reticent, but now desire you to know
all. You may think me mailman when you
! have read the story; and indeed, no one can
| know whether he Is mad or not, but you know
| ME too well to suspect Inc of falsehood. The
truth of what | have written is as absolute
to me as that of my own existence
Read it and do what you will with IL
Yours ever, LIE MAR
1t was to obtain this legacy that the colonel
retraced his steps to the home of his dead
comrade that day. AS lie Mar had said, he
knew nothing of his life save that they had
fought together, yet he had always felt that
some mystery surrounded him, that there
were sorrows i'll the past too great to be
spoken of.
At the dead of night, in the solitude of bis
own room, Col. Mestayer unroled the paper,
covered by the words his friends had rtten
and read the following story:
DEAR MESTAYER: Before became a soldier
l lived with my father in chateau near
Paris. l was his youngest son. and in his way
he was fond of me; his kindness. however.
depended altogether on my implicit ol1edi-
ence. Like most Young men, had fallen in
love. The object of my affection was not
u
little shop girl named Airline
| have always thought her the sweetest
thing on earth; certainly her black eyes and
her long, glittering, waving black hair were
charms any woman might have envied |
never mentioned Airline at home, of course;
that you quite understand. Her grandfather
was little old man who carved wooden
brackets for living, and they lived on Ii
fourth floor in very poor neighborhood.
when | was five and twenty years of age
my father SAID to me:
"Adolph, it is time for you to marry /
have selected a wife for you 1t is young Mile
Moran"
"But have no wish To marry" l said.
Il desire it," said my father. Mile. Mo-
rams beauty, position and wealth render her
most eligible wife for you. Her father aD-
proves of you; he viii give her fine por-
tion and if you marry according to my
wishes l viii settle a suitable sum upon YOU
and give you the pretty chateau at St. Sau-
veur, which you have always So much adj
mired | can afford to be generous to an
obedient son, but if am offended with you.
what have you"
"Not SOU"
"Ah, WELL" said he, Il see you understand
the situation"
He walked away from me well satisfied
remained where he had left me- | asked nv
self what l should do. / could not tell him
that loved some one else. Love had nothing
to do with his plans. L could not tell him
that another loved ME. What would lie care
for a little shop girl without n penny in her
purse2 With his consent | should never
marry her, even were there no Nile. Moran
on earth. l might resist his authority and
marry airline. After that, perhaps, might
teach music for q livelihood / knew some
thing of the art. And then, if we two could
hive on crust in e garnet, we might be
happy Could wef Could |! | thought Of
my own elegant house; OF the style in which
I had always lived; Of the Injuries that had
grown TO BE- necessities to me- shudlered.
Perhaps time will he p me-" | said TO nv
self. Il viii not anger my father yet. will
remain passive. | viii never marry Mile.
Moran: but if it anluses old people to talk Of
our betvothal let them do it,"
SO salyed my conscience Once or twice |
q week my father took me formally to call |
upon young Mile. Moran The rest Of the |
evenings | made love TO my little Airline |
She lived with her old grandfather on an /
upper floor in dismal street. but the room |
was bright and clean enough, and she was as /
pretty and as fresh as rose
Together we supped upon bread and rad |
shes and claret, which I brought with Inc
in long bottle These were delicious feasts.
They We're sweetened and favored by love.
she did not know that l was rich man.
She did not care whether | was rich or poor
Neither OF US looked far into the future
We were young and Inc present sufiiced Us
Whether we whispered together in the little
garrett, or went arm in arm 70 See a play;
whether we walked through the gas lit streets
1r wandered on some summer holiday out
INTO the pleasant country piaces--we were as
happy as the day was long. Meanwhile
Nile. Moran gave me her polite attention
when we met. and made no objection what
.ver to our parents plans
Loving airline as | did, was still cow
nd You who have known me in hattie
will perhaps think belle myself. but AT one
md twenty ] was a moral coward / de-
pise myself aS | write, but have promised
o tell the truth. | allowed matters 70 pro-
eel without Interruption, until At last | vas
ornallv afiianced to Nile Moran / signed
he marriage contract with my OWN hand.
md then felt that could not retrace my
teps Satan whispered ia my ear:
What does it mattert Marry tEe lady.
-FOUR little shop girl does not know anything
bout you Keep your fortune and your
weetheart also.
obey 81 lis whispers. managed my ut
le afTz..r - as 20 avoid suspicion on Loth
ldes. Reckless Of tbs wrong .as doing 10
NO good AMI pure young girls / dated
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